


the heart, the mind, and the soul

by SpaceOut



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, Depression, LOOK HAM DIDDLY DARN DID IT, Love Confessions, M/M, Questioning Existence, Sadness, Storms, take a break, this is emo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 17:48:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8676964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceOut/pseuds/SpaceOut
Summary: There are moments in your life where you simply must pause and cope with the life you've been given.
or, in which Thomas and Alex stay in bed all day





	

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to midnigtartist and Michelle_A_Emerlind for keeping my Jamilton life living
> 
> also thanks to myan who doesn't have an account but always looks over these for me despite the fact that they Loathe jamilton and most of my other ships,,,,they're a grace to humanity
> 
> this came to me while i was procrastinating on my essay for colonial education (which I still haven't written???whooops???) so here's me being an emo shit have fun

"Who will I be in a hundred years from now? In two-hundred? Just a number? A name in a footnote? I intend to have biographies."

Alex stared at the pen in his hand as he spoke. "My eloquence often doesn't translate to my normal speech, due to the fact my vocabulary has been shunned upon in youth, but upon rare moments I fear I can speak what I write. It's equally as dangerous as it is wonderful. These thoughts are not preserved in ink or memory, it is merely known to myself and those who dare to listen to my late night ramblings."

Rubbing a hand across his face, he sighed. "What I have to say will always land me at the top of my class, it is no absurdity to think so, but the question is, can I voice my thoughts to a larger platform than that of a mere college? College is of scholars and fruitful men, brilliant, but known to overcomplicate the implications of nearly everything. Is it so impossible to believe they over think a legacy as mere ego? I am aware of my ego, as everyone should be aware of their own, but legacy rarely lies in the reach of egos. My drive towards a legacy is riddled with a need to be someone, to not be a number, a nameless face in a painting or picture. I cannot live bearing the fact that I will surmount to nothing, if I cannot be someone, than who am I?"

"You are the heart, Alexander," Thomas sat next to Alex on a stool next to the desk. "You will always be the heart, the driving force of us. Not us as just you and I, but our peers, our school, and eventually I am sure it will insure your name in this nation as well."  

"If I am the heart, who drives the soul? The mind?" Alexander looked up at Thomas with a perplexing look. A pause. "You are the soul."

"I am the soul as much as I am the mind. And you are as much the mind as you are the heart, love. A legacy may be what you strive for, but remember, the heart must to focus now to grow stronger, and a strong heart..."

"Means a strong mind. And a strong mind is as strong with a pen as that of a sword...Swords aren't cherished nearly as much as the quill?"

"Exactly," Thomas leaned down from his seat to kiss Alex on the forehead. "Come to bed, Alexander, let the words wash over you in sleep so you can have the power to construct your proverbial cathedrals past dawn."

He slid off the stool, holding out his hand for Alex, who gave him a soft smile and rose to meet him.

* * *

 

_("-please don't leavemewhatdidIdodon'tleaveme-"_

_"Breathe, Alex, just breathe with me. Please.")_

* * *

There was an arm draped over his hip. Legs tangled with his. A warm body pressed against his back, shielding from the nefarious cold from outside the covers. It was nice, it was stagnant; it was a pause that Alex so dearly craved in his life.

"Alexander?" Thomas whispered, arm tightening slightly around Alex's waist.

"Thomas?" His voice always took a scratchy quality in the mornings. Thomas' never did that. Nor did John's. It was like a fountain pen that had run out of ink on parchment. Perhaps that's why they call it parchment, it's parched since it lacks anywaterhowever-

"Stay home with me today," Another hand snaked its way up to touch Alex's hair. Thomas had hands that showed his physical labor intensive youth, with calluses and muscles in places you wouldn't suspect. Strong hands, short nails, cold hands, cold hands warmheartthelinewasright-

"That's a good idea."

Today was a pause. A coma.

* * *

_("I should have listened to you, pa. I understand, I understand, to church to church to church..."_

_"It's who you are; don't let anyone else define you. What good is a dictionary missing context?")_

* * *

"I feel muted today," Thomas said suddenly as the two sat in bed, not moving, not talking, just looking- observing. He only wore pajama bottoms last night, leaving his chest bare and to the mercy of the cool house.

"It's in the air," Alex responded, reaching out to touch one of Thomas' curls. "The tone of today, perhaps, God had intended to leave for rest."

"Perhaps it's nothing at all." Thomas was an atheist. Alex wore a necklace with a cross.

A pause.

"It's the stars," was the quiet remedy.

"Or the moon." A hint of a smile.

"What mercies do we have to Scorpio?"

"What mercies do we have to a waxing crescent?"

It was cold.

* * *

_("It's history. I'm history. But I will never be history my eyes are clouded my time is outi'mrunningoutoftime-"_

_"History can wait.")_

* * *

Pearls. His mother had a single pearl, a gift from her own mother many years ago. Thomas always liked pearls. His skin always looked nice with the soft cream ones. Maybe a gift for the upcoming holiday season?

Alex tugged on a sweatshirt before tossing one over at his...his Thomas. Whatever they were, they were each other's. He walked back over to get into bed, passing the window, he paused, turning back.

"Not the air, nor God, nor stars or moon. A storm, grey, quiet, thundering." Alex opened the curtain to see the downtown city splayed out before them. "What a heroic feat, to mimic what a celestial can do with only water, wind, and a diabolical twist of air pressure."

He turned back to Thomas, who held out his arms with soft eyes.

"Am I shaking?" Alexander held up his hand to see.

"Like a leaf, come on."

* * *

_("Liberty is a concept that should be applied to everyone. People say it already is. Do they not see the rights of others being ripped away where they stand?"_

_"You can only make a hero out of yourself, don't make a villain out of another.")_

* * *

"Are you still cold?" Thomas shook his head subtly. "That's good. Am I warm?" A slight nod.

They were sitting up still, Thomas' back against the headboard, and Alex sitting in his lap. Alex always leaned back in just a way that would manage to align their hearts. Myth said that once two people spent enough time together, their hearts would beat at the same rate. Perhaps it would be something they put to the test.

A wave of shivers wracked his body, making the man in his arms do a soft thing akin to a chuckle, but far too light, far too weary.

Thomas buried his face in the crook of Alex's neck, placing a soft kiss. The chain of the necklace was a very small link, a gift from Thomas himself many months ago. It was a gift to mean something. The thought escapes him now, but it had meaning, somewhere. Somehow.

"Thomas?" Alex asked, said, stated, mentioned, inquired, questioned, demanded.

He hummed.

"I'm in love with you."

He hummed again.

* * *

_(No words. Silence._

_"Say something, anything, you're scaring me.")_

* * *

He was crying. Tears running down his face. His own personal storm compared to the one that shook the house. This was no hurricane, no tornado, just a storm. A soft thing, even, not the worse they've seen in New York by a long shot.

Alex choked out a sob.

Thomas finally moved his head. One of his hands (strong, calloused) led Alex to slide down just enough to have his heart on the taller man's chest. A heartbeat. A sign of live. A sign of love.

Tha-thump.

Tha-thump.

"You love me."

Tha-thump.

Tha-thump.

* * *

_("I'm not lost, I'm just yet to be found."_

_"I found you, let me lead you to a path.")_

* * *

Seconds. Minutes. Hours.

Something passed. Anything passed. Nothing passed. Everything passed.

"I'm in love with you, Alexander." His voice was rough, low, honest. It may be the quietest day, but it will forever be the warmest hour.

Seconds. Minutes. Hours.

"Are you cold?"

Thomas shook his head.

* * *

_("I'm lost."_

_"Let me show you your path.")_

* * *

"My soul," Alex said softly, just as they were about to drift off again. "What am I without a soul? What would you be without your heart? Where are we with two minds?"

"Cracked," a reply, quieter than the questions. "But strong."

What a brilliant repertoire to exhibit.

* * *

 

The next morning was different. It always is.

* * *

 

"Alex, did you see my green tie?" Thomas yelled from the bedroom.

"Yeah, I'm wearing it, I think," Alex shouted back from the office. "Can you grab mine?"  
"The blue one?"

"Sure," Alex huffed, undoing the crisp knot he took way too much pride in. "Why, of all your ties, did I grab the one with orange polka-dots?"

"Because I have style," Thomas smirked as he walked in the room. "Unlike your made-of-plaid-closet."

"I've seen your lumberjack wear, Tommy, darling, don't think you're off so easily with that callout."

"Lumberjack wear? 'Lex, love, at least it shows I did something other than sit at a desk all day."

"Uh-huh." Alex rolled his eyes at his Thomas. "Just hand over the tie, asshole."


End file.
